


By All Accounts, It Doesn't Make Sense

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Transformation, Crack, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Please tell me our leading theory isn't <i>Bellamy didn't fuck a witch</i>," says Miller.</p><p>"Do you have another leading theory?" asks Octavia.</p><p>"Come on, Bellamy," says Clarke, patting his neck consolingly. "Always fuck the witch. That's, like, not getting turned into a llama 101."</p>
            </blockquote>





	By All Accounts, It Doesn't Make Sense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elizardbits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizardbits/gifts).



> My friend Liz really, really wanted me to write a fic where Bellamy turned into a llama. She sent me a lot of texts about it, and apparently her boss kicked her out of a staff meeting because she thought "BeLLAMAy Blake" to herself and started cackling so hard it was disruptive. So she's earned this. Title from _The Emperor's New Groove_ , naturally.

"He says he won't talk to anyone but you," says Miller. 

"He better not have an STD," Clarke grumbles, juggling her phone on her shoulder as she unlocks the door. She just worked a fucking death shift at the hospital, she's exhausted, and she's about ready to murder someone. Given there's always about a fifty-percent chance she wants to murder Bellamy, she is not at all optimistic about this situation. "He wouldn't come out of his room at all?" she asks.

"Not while I was there. He made me call into work for him," says Miller. "He said he was too sick to use his phone. I would have pushed harder, but I had to go to work myself, so--can you deal with it?"

Clarke sighs and runs her hand through her hair. "Yeah, of course. Thanks for the head's up. Get back to work."

She hangs up the phone and raps on Bellamy's door. If he's sick, he might be asleep, but she's pissed at him, so it's pretty much impossible to care. "Bellamy! Are you dead?"

"I wish."

"What is it, flu?" She tries the door and finds it's not locked, at least. "You better be wearing clothes."

"I'm not."

"Too late," she says, and prepares to avert her eyes, but before she can she sees a fucking _llama_ in the middle of his room, just hanging out, being a _llama_.

And then the llama says, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you don't want to check me out right now," in Bellamy's voice.

Clarke is a seasoned medical professional. She works in an ER. She has seen some shit. So she does not faint. But she does fall against his door. "Bellamy, are you--what the fuck? Did you steal a llama to punk me? Please tell me you didn't _buy_ a llama just to punk me, because if you don't make rent because you spent all your money on a _fucking llama_ , I will actually murder you."

"Why would I buy a llama?" the llama asks. "That's not even a good prank! I woke up this morning and it was just--fuck. I was like this."

"One morning, when Bellamy Blake woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into--"

"Look, princess, as hot as I find it when you reference classic literature, can you help me out here?"

Clarke approaches the llama slowly, because she's still not convinced Bellamy isn't hiding under his bed, making the llama move its mouth like it's talking, because he's--well, she has no idea why he would do that, but it seems more likely than _spontaneously turning into a fucking llama_. The llama watches her as she gets closer, and she hesitantly touches its head. It's soft.

"What is this proving, exactly?" Bellamy and/or the llama asks. It leans into her hand, like it wants to be petted. Clarke absently scratches it.

"I don't know."

"Seriously, why would I ever try to convince you I turned into a llama it wasn't true? Why would I take a sick day to do that?"

It's a fair question, but she doesn't really believe him until she sees his bed is actually _broken_. "What the hell happened to your bed?"

"I woke up _a llama_ ," he says. "I broke it trying to get up."

Clarke's legs give out, and she slumps down onto the remains of his bed with a _whoof_. "Holy shit, are you actually a fucking _llama_?"

"Yes," says Bellamy. He buts her with his head. "And I need _help_. I'm hungry, and thirsty, and we need to fix it."

"We?"

"You're a doctor!"

"Yeah, I'm a doctor, I was in medical school for ten billion years, and none of my classes ever even touched on _my fucking asshole roommate turned into a llama_."

"Can't you just adapt whatever you learned in _my estranged brother turned into an alpaca_?" he asks, butting her again. "I thought you were smart."

"I'm going to get you some water," she says. "Do you know what llamas eat?"

"Grass, probably," he says, miserably. "And I bet they can't metabolize alcohol."

"Probably not," she agrees. "And, honestly, the last thing I want to deal with is a drunk llama."

*

Clarke moved into Nathan Miller and Bellamy Blake's small suburban house a year ago, after Bellamy's sister moved in with her boyfriend and they had a bedroom open up. Bellamy's sister was a friend of a friend, and it seemed like a great idea--it was cheaper than her old place, closer to the hospital, and Octavia was nice, so it couldn't be too bad, right?

Now, watching Bellamy the llama in the backyard, munching on their lawn, she thinks that the rent might not be worth it.

She brings a bowl of water out for him and sits down in the grass. "Why didn't you tell Miller?"

"He needed to go to work."

From anyone else, Clarke would assume it was a lie, but Bellamy can't help looking out for the people he cares about, and Miller is one of the people he cares about most. He wouldn't want to worry him.

"I was hoping we'd figure it out before he got home," says Bellamy, lapping up some water. 

"Have you pissed off any old witches who are trying to steal your throne? Do you need to go on a life-affirming Mesoamerican adventure where you learn not to be a dick?"

She thinks Bellamy is glaring at her, but it's hard to tell. She's never had a llama glare at her before. "Emperor's New Groove reference? Really?"

"Dude, you're a fucking llama. I think I showed a lot of restraint not making an Emperor's New Groove reference earlier."

"Yeah, okay," says Bellamy. He spits. "Grass tastes fucking awful. As far as I know, no one slipped me a llama roofie. I haven't had any suspicious dinner parties with scary old ladies and hunky young idiots. I haven't done anything weird."

"Nothing? Did you eat anything different or--fuck, I don't know. What makes a guy turn into a llama?"

"If I knew, I would tell you," says Bellamy. "Fuck. We're gonna have to tell Miller. At least it's Friday. We've got a whole weekend to figure it out."

Clarke rubs her eyes. She worked a twenty-hour shift, so she actually does have a real weekend to recover. She's also about ready to collapse. "How did this become my problem?" she asks.

Bellamy butts her with his head again. It's his main form of communication, and it's actually kind of cute. She's not planning to tell him that. "I can't pay rent if I'm a llama."

"Yeah, but you're a talking llama who used to be a human," she points out. "That's got to be something we can monetize." There's a long pause, and she realizes he's seriously considering it. "Oh my god, do not try to make money off being a talking llama, someone will probably try to dissect you or something."

"It's sweet of you to worry."

She yawns into her arm. "Well, you're a fucking llama."

"Point." He nudges her again. "Go to sleep. I'll be fine out here. It's warm."

"Yeah," she says. "I'll--set an alarm. So I'm awake when Miller gets back."

"Good idea." There's another pause, and he says, "Thanks, Clarke."

"Well, if you can't trust your roommates to help you when you get turned into a llama, who can you trust?"

He makes a noise that she assumes is a laugh. "Exactly. Get some sleep."

*

"You cannot be serious," says Miller. He's looking at Clarke, presumably because he doesn't want to look at the talking llama that's claiming to be his best friend. "You guys are fucking with me."

"Why would I pretend to be a llama? I already went over this with Clarke, it's the stupidest prank ever."

"Part of some dumb plan to impress her?" Miller suggests; Clarke chooses to ignore him.

"Miller," says Bellamy, all seriousness. "I am not fucking with you. I'm a fucking llama, and I had to shit in our yard. This it the worst fucking day of my life. Can we try to figure something out?"

Miller looks at Clarke again. "He really isn't," she says. "He broke his bed." She sits down on the grass next to Bellamy, checking first to make sure there's nothing there, since he's apparently been shitting in the yard. Which makes sense, but she'd rather not interact with it. "I googled _my roommate turned into an animal_ , which didn't hit anything good, and then I read some wikipedia articles about shapeshifting. Then I checked if _Emperor's New Groove_ was on Netflix, which it is, so I vote we watch that for ideas."

"This was what you meant when you said you were doing research?" Bellamy asks, sounding vaguely disgusted.

"I also looked at your food in the fridge."

"Good job, ace."

Miller rubs his face. "Have you tried kissing him?"

"What?" asks Bellamy, at the same time Clarke asks, "Me?"

Miller shrugs. "That's what they do in fairy tales, right? Someone gets transformed, a kiss is the cure, right?"

"Why am I doing it?" Clarke asks. "You could do it."

"No one is kissing me," says Bellamy, firmly.

"Fine, stay a llama." He looks at Clarke. "Want to get drunk and watch _Emperor's New Groove_ until we feel better?"

"Yes," she says, instantly.

"I hate you guys."

*

Clarke is pretty sure they were all just hoping they'd wake up in the morning and Bellamy wouldn't be a llama, or the entire day would have just been a fucked up dream, or something. But the next morning, Bellamy is still a llama, and she and Miller are hung over.

"Now what?" asks Miller.

Clarke rubs her face. "I have no idea."

They try some more google searches, trying to hit on a list of things that have been traditionally used to cure animal transformations, but if such a list exists, they're not having any luck finding it, so they throw a bucket of water on him, just in case that's a thing, Clarke performs some sort of exorcism ritual she finds online (once Bellamy's corrected the shitty Latin), and Miller loses rock-paper-scissors and has to call Octavia.

"Maybe I _should_ kiss you," Clarke remarks. "It couldn't hurt, right?"

"Pretty sure I don't have any skills when I'm a llama," he says. "Don't want to let you down."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that was my worry too."

"Your sister thinks I'm having a psychotic episode and is coming over," Miller announces, coming back outside.

Bellamy sighs. "Yeah, that's definitely going to help."

*

"Have you thought about being less of a dick?" Octavia asks, after the now-standard _you have got to be shitting me_ period. 

"I'm already a fucking llama," says Bellamy, miserable. "Do we really have to kick me when I'm down?"

"Come on, whenever someone turns into an animal, it's because they have to learn to be a less shitty person."

"I'm not a shitty person!"

"You're not," says Clarke soothingly. "But you kind of--you can be abrasive."

"That's actually the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Did you sleep with a girl and not call her recently?" Octavia asks, clearly getting impatient with him. Octavia doesn't like being idle, and Clarke has to admit the rest of them are being pretty useless.

"You're going to have to be more specific," says Miller.

"I haven't actually," Bellamy says. "Not in a while." He flicks his ears. "I _didn't_ sleep with a girl a couple days ago, I guess? She was really into it and I turned her down."

"There you go!" says Octavia.

"Please tell me our leading theory isn't _Bellamy didn't fuck a witch_ ," says Miller.

"Do you have another leading theory?" asks Octavia.

"Come on, Bellamy," says Clarke, patting his neck consolingly. "Always fuck the witch. That's, like, not getting turned into a llama 101."

"Thanks, Dr. Asshole."

*

As it turns out, having a leading theory doesn't help that much, because, really, Bellamy doesn't know the girl's name, and even if they did, going up to a strange woman whose only connection to any of them is having flirted with Bellamy at a bar and asking if she's a witch isn't really okay. Even if their best guess _is_ that she's a witch and decided to curse him. If she isn't a witch, she'll probably call the cops, and if she is a witch, she'll probably turn them all into llamas.

"Did Clarke kiss you?" Octavia asks. They ordered some pizza for lunch and Bellamy is munching on grass in a distinctly bitter way. Being a llama is probably really, really terrible.

"Why does everyone keep asking that?" says Clarke.

"Well, I'm not going to kiss him," says Octavia. "And Miller probably isn't going to kiss him."

"I kissed him in college," says Miller. "I did my time already."

"That kiss ruined you for other men for years," says Bellamy. "It rocked your entire universe."

"Anyway, kisses always fix stuff," says Octavia.

Clarke rips up little handfuls of grass until Bellamy bumps her hand with his head, and she switches over to scratching him instead. The thing is, she can't help thinking, in all the stories it's _not_ kisses that fix stuff. It's love, and she's not sure if Octavia and Miller forgot, or they know that and they're not mentioning it because Bellamy hasn't really mentioned that he _likes_ her. But it's getting increasingly hard to deny that he does, and Miller knows, and Octavia probably knows.

Really, everyone but her probably knows, and she might have known too, somewhere. But it was easier, not knowing, because then she didn't have to think about how she felt about him.

"She's not kissing me," Bellamy is saying. "I don't know how much clearer I can be about this."

"Bell--" Octavia starts, but Clarke cuts her off.

"Can you guys maybe go try to find a--I don't know. Do we have psychics? Fortune tellers? Weird new-age stores that seem like they could be covers for witches like in Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Any of that stuff?"

Miller gives her a calculating look, but must decide it's okay, because he says, "Sure, we can do that," and drags Octavia and the pizza inside.

Clarke scratches Bellamy behind his ear, which is really, really weird, but he seems to enjoy it. "You know, if you don't stop being a llama, you're not going to get to kiss me anyway, so it seems kind of stupid to veto it because you don't have game."

"I might have game."

"You're a llama. There's not enough game in the world."

There's a pause, and then he says, "And when I'm not a llama?"

Bellamy Blake can be annoying, and really arrogant. He's stubborn, he's argumentative, and he always thinks he's right. But he's also, well-- _Bellamy_. And she really does kind of--

"I dunno," she says. "I guess we'll find out when you're not a llama."

Conveniently, that's when he stops being a llama.

Clarke realizes it when she finds her fingers rubbing against skin, not fur, and she jumps back. Bellamy falls over, because he's kind of weirdly balanced on all-fours, and then turns bright red, because he's naked in the grass and she's staring at him.

"What the fuck, princess?" he says, scrambling to cover himself up.

"What?"

"What did you do?"

"I don't know!" And then, because she's compelled to be honest for some ungodly reason, she admits, "I guess I might have learned a lesson about feelings."

He stares at her, wide-eyed and hopeful and still distractingly naked. "What about them?"

"Shut _up_ , Bellamy," she grumbles, and then he kisses her. She just lets it happen for a second, and then she throws her arms around him and kisses back, and it's going really well until she slides her tongue into his mouth. "Oh god, you have got to brush your teeth, llama mouth is _gross_ ," she says, and he laughs into her neck.

*

"I kissed him," she tells Miller and Octavia, while Bellamy's brushing his teeth and getting dressed and taking advantage of having opposable thumbs. He's probably going to actually make her _say_ that she admitted to herself that she was kind of in love with him, but there's no way she's telling Miller and Octavia that.

"Yes!" says Octavia. "That's what always does it."

"How'd you convince him?" asks Miller.

"I told him I'd do it again when he turned back."

Octavia squeals and launches herself at Clarke for a hug, which is kind of a lot to take in right now, but she hugs back anyway. "I _knew it_!"

"Yeah, yeah," says Clarke, petting Octavia's back awkwardly. "Everyone knew it."

"I didn't," Bellamy grumbles as he comes down the stairs. He's wearing clothing again, which she's now willing to admit is kind of a disappointment. But it's probably not going to last forever. "Now, if you guys don't mind, we could use some privacy."

Octavia groans. "You called me over to help and now you're kicking me out?"

"Pretty much."

"Miller lives here!"

Bellamy fishes out his wallet and gives them a twenty. "Go see a movie."

"Movies cost more than--" Octavia starts, but Miller gives Bellamy a quick salute and drags her off. Clarke hears her yell, "See if I ever help you again, Bell!" and can't help a smile.

Bellamy turns on her, all intensity, and she's expecting another kiss, but all he says is, "Who the hell did _you_ piss off to get me turned into a llama, princess?"

*

"So, are you a witch?"

Clarke's college roommate, Raven, is her main outlet for complaining about Bellamy. She's woman enough to admit that it started with valid complaints, when she first moved in, and turned into thinly veiled _I really want to jump him but I'm bad at dealing with my feelings_ pretty quickly, as Raven was more than happy to point out. If anyone (aside from Bellamy himself) has gotten fed up with Clarke not making out with Bellamy, it's definitely Raven.

"What? You're asking me if I'm a witch, Griffin? After all these years? After all we've been through?"

"That's not a no," Clarke says, rubbing her face. Bellamy raises his eyebrows, and she puts Raven on speakerphone. "It's also not _witches aren't real_ , which is what I would expect if you weren't a witch who turned my roommate into a llama."

Raven cackles; she's always cackled a lot, maybe that was a sign. "He turned into a _llama_?"

"Yeah, thanks for that," Bellamy grumbles.

"Hey, loverboy. You better?"

"Yeah."

"So you should probably be thanking me." There's a pause while Raven collects herself and stops laughing. "Seriously, it was an accident. I try not to be that obvious about it, or _everyone_ would know about witches, but I messed up the Latin a little. Don't drink and divine, kids."

They should probably have a longer conversation about this, but after the weekend she's had, Clarke isn't really in the mood to try to figure out Raven's exact occult history. "Please never turn anyone I love into an animal ever again. Or an inanimate object. Anything, actually. Let's not turn anyone into anything."

"I was gonna call you," says Raven. "You know, to help. Soon."

"I'm going to drive down there and murder you," says Clarke.

"Cool, I miss you. Definitely come visit."

Clarke glances at Bellamy. He doesn't look permanently scarred by his non-human experiences, although he seems a little dazed. But when he catches her eye, he grins like the sun coming up.

"Yeah. See you soon."

After she hangs up, Bellamy takes her face in his hands and kisses her again, tasting like mint and smelling like soap. Clarke climbs into his lap without totally meaning to, and he's got her shirt half-unbuttoned by the time she realizes they haven't really talked much.

"We should be freaked out about this, right?"

"You said I was someone you love," he says, like this is the only important thing that came out of a conversation where she learned her former roommate was a witch. And that's kind of cool, really. "And if she ever does that again, _I'm_ going to drive down and murder her."

"Sounds good," says Clarke, and takes his shirt off.

*

Bellamy shows up at her door when she's getting ready for bed, dressed in just his pajama pants, and wearing his glasses. Clarke should maybe send Raven something really, really nice.

"So, uh, my bed is broken. Can I borrow yours?"

She lets out a surprised laugh. "That is such a shitty pickup line."

He grins. "You're already picked up, I figured I could stop putting effort in."

"Good attitude," says Clarke. She jerks her head toward the bed. "You better not turn into anything else tonight. If we break my bed, I'm pretty sure Miller's not going to let us share with him."

Bellamy flops down on her bed, stretching out happily. "If we break your bed, it's not going to be because I turn into something," he says, with a cocky smirk, and Clarke has to laugh.

They end up just moving her bed into his room, since it's bigger, and getting another roommate. It's a lot cheaper than buying a new bed.

(His name is Monty, and it only takes a few weeks for Bellamy to ask Clarke if Raven can do something about him and Miller. Clarke is pretty sure Miller's more competent than she is, so she figures she'll give him a few months before they try anything drastic.)

**Author's Note:**

> Raven and Bellamy's POVs on this are [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4039033/chapters/9086269)!


End file.
